


Perfect and loved

by thereisnosuchthingasunicorns



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Smut, Stiles has a dirty mind, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereisnosuchthingasunicorns/pseuds/thereisnosuchthingasunicorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Whenever Stiles had imagined having sex with Derek, it had always been rough, fast and forceful."<br/>But what if the real deal turns out to be totally different?</p>
<p>Goes with <a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/a4255aed908097e7464bbe397e3a2531/tumblr_mq0lzw4hBb1rfo533o8_500.gif">this</a> gif.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect and loved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nezstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/gifts).



> This is a small Christmas present for my beautiful girl! I love you <333
> 
>  
> 
> If you like, come and say hi to me, I'm thereisnosuchthingasunicorns on tumblr.

Whenever Stiles had imagined having sex with Derek, it had always been rough, fast and forceful. Not in a bad way, of course! Stiles would have loved having rough and fast sex with Derek. Or any sex with Derek, for that matter. That’s just how Derek seemed to be: silent, strong, dominating. And if the same attributes would apply to sex with him? Stiles’ personal heaven! 

Unfortunately, there had been no sign that said silent and broody werewolf was somehow interested in getting that loud and too enthusiastic (especially about sexy times) human into his bed. Or, at least Stiles hoped that Derek had a bed. Werewolf, you’d never know, right? 

However, moving along! 

It were those images floating around in Stiles’ head whenever he’d touch himself. Every time Derek would snarl at him, or push him into something or just throw the typical “Shut up, Stiles!” at him, just like that, Stiles would get hard. Fucking Pavlovian, that’s what it was! Thanks to Stiles’ “Stiles- time” fantasies, no less. 

He thought about Derek pushing him against a wall, thought about hard and urgent kisses, strong hands touching his body, blunt nails scratching along his skin. He thought about Derek’s hot mouth on his neck, growling into his ear, while he would fuck him from behind, no finesse, just hard, heated sex. Stiles imagined Derek snarling at him, slapping his ass and telling him through gritted teeth to come already. 

And Stiles came, hard and long and messy, all over himself and his bed, fantasizing about a certain werewolf holding him in place with one strong hand while fucking him through his orgasm. 

So maybe this was becoming a tiny problem, because Stiles couldn’t help it, but being constantly hard around Derek. 

But in the end it wasn’t like Stiles had imagined it, not at all. It wasn’t out of the heat of a moment, a reaction of “hell yeah, we’re still alive” after some fight against the supernatural of the week. 

It was a quiet evening, just him and Derek, sitting on Stiles’ bed, reading, shoulder against shoulder. It was dark outside already and only the lamp on the bedside table gave a dim light. Stiles closed his book and rubbed his eyes, tired from reading. 

He glanced to his left and there he was, Derek, sitting next to him, looking so peaceful and right next to Stiles, so overwhelmingly fitting that Stiles’ heart clenched at the sight. It wasn’t like he’d told his body to move, to lean in and take the book from Derek’s hands, but somehow he did. Derek didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow in silent question; he didn’t move away when Stiles leaned in and kissed him. It was chaste and sweet and Stiles felt him sigh against his lips. 

Also, Stiles may or may have not said something stupid right afterwards, something about “I” and “love” and “you”. Not that it did matter, because there was a big hand on his neck, a thumb rubbing circles against his pulse point and a mouth against his ear saying it right back. 

So no, the sex with Derek wasn’t rough or hard or fast, but almost the opposite. It was slow and unhurried with kisses all over Stiles’ trembling body, with feather light touches and whispered words. It was sensual, too much and not enough at the same time, having Stiles begging for more, for something.  
When Derek finally pushed into him, Stiles felt like he might die from how good it felt. He felt whole and perfect, loving the warmth of Derek’s body in him, over him, surrounding him, making him feel loved and wanted. 

And maybe, just maybe Stiles had to admit that this was better than his fantasies – but there was always a second time, right?


End file.
